


Zero to Sixty

by ObsidianRomance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, M/M, Mpreg, Top Dean, Top Sam, Versatile Wincest, Wincest - Freeform, graphic birth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 11:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianRomance/pseuds/ObsidianRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean piss off and kill a fertility goddess on Halloween.  She curses them before she dies but after marathon sex, they don’t know what they’ve gotten themselves into.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zero to Sixty

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: cursing, top!Sam, bottom!Sam, mpreg!Sam, top!Dean, bottom!Dean, mpreg!Dean, versatile!Sam/Dean, porn, rimming, birth, horror elements, expedited pregnancy, fuck or die (sex pollen), mating, fertility curse , male lactation, bastardization of anatomy  
> Disclaimer: I don't own the Winchesters. I am just borrowing them for now.  
> Authors Note: This story is COMPLETELY out of my comfort zone. COMPLETELY. I was asked by some people if I could write rapid pregnancy and I wanted to give it a try, since I felt it could work for a Halloween prompt. I learned two things: 1) I can write it. 2) I will probably never do it again. It just felt weird. I like all the porn…actually. But the rest…well…I tried. If this is your cup of tea, then I hope you like it.

Sam feels it start just a hair under his shirt’s collar – an itching, a nagging sensation, something on the verge of consuming him.  He feels the uncomfortable heat spreading out, making him squirm uncomfortably.  It comes on quite suddenly, sneaking up on him until he realizes it too late, not that he can do anything about it.

He gives Dean a sideways glance, finding his brother’s jaw squared and clenched.  Dean looks more than just pissed off that he got injured and Sam is driving the Impala.  He is fighting off something, maybe doing a better job of it than Sam, but then Sam sees it.  Sees the way Dean shucks off his jacket and tugs the neck of his t-shirt off his chest, fanning it to get more air.  His brother itches at the back of his neck and goes back to fanning his chest.

“What?”  Dean’s voice comes of gravel-rough as he raises an eye at Sam.

“Nothing.”  Pulling his eyes away from Dean, Sam refocuses on the road.  It is more difficult than it should be and he finds his gaze going back to his brother.  A weird surge of emotions bloom in his brain and he won’t let himself think wholly about the idea’s taking shape in his mind.  Instead, he focuses on the fact that they have 10 more miles until they reach their motel.

He should be exhausted, they both should be; fighting off a fertility goddess is not exactly a cake walk.  They both never hunted one, hadn’t even heard of someone that had, but she popped up on their radar after supernatural pregnancies started making a buzz.  Too many people giving birth to different species isn’t on the list of things any loyal hunter can ignore; killing her was the only option.

It wasn’t their plan for the night, being Halloween both boys tended to lay low.  They knew the popular saying that the spirit veil is the thinnest on Halloween is more of an understatement; the veil is practically non-existent.  They didn’t _plan_ on going out…but their _plans_ rarely go according to plan.

The fact that the goddess showed up only 30 miles from their motel was too tempting not to jump on.   Which is why, a hour, a deathbed curse, and one busted arm later, the Winchesters are hightailing back to their motel to pop Dean’s shoulder back in the socket and figure out just exactly what parting gift the dying goddess left them with.

Sam takes his eyes of the road long enough to fixate on Dean swallowing, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs.  He licks his lips before catching himself and forcing his eyes back to the road.  The car feels entirely too hot but that makes no sense since the windows are open and the cool fall air is pouring in.

This time, when Dean catches Sam staring, he doesn’t reprimand him.  Instead, he bites his lip, sucking the bottom portion into his mouth.  His left hand makes its way to the seat’s leather beside his thigh and his fingers twitch and grope, nerve endings reacting on their own.  He ends up letting out a deep sigh and tugs off his shirt, leaving him to sit beside Sam in nothing but a worn pair of jeans and a thin sheen of sweat.

Sam almost drives the Impala off the road.  He gets control of it at the last minute, roughly jerking the wheel so that the car literally scream’s into the motel’s parking lot.  Finally slamming the gears into park, Sam can use the part of his brain that was focusing on driving to focus on what is going on with him and Dean.  He knows they’re in trouble, and not just from the predatory way Dean is staring at him.  The twitching of an arousal in his suddenly too tight jeans clues him in as well.  There is no way he should be feeling aroused right now, not after almost just killing them.  Still, Dean is pressing closer and Sam can’t stop himself from licking his lips when he narrows his stare on Dean’s toned chest and hardened nipples.

Cutting off Dean’s advance across the seat, Sam scrambles and gets himself out of the car.  He plans on heading for their motel room’s door, but his feet have other ideas.  They rush him towards the Impala’s passenger side door and he yanks it open.

Dean doesn’t give Sam time to think any further, he practically launches himself out of the car and slams Sam up against a neighboring parked sedan.  Grinding into Sam, he makes his own arousal known before he smirks and attacks Sam’s lips.

The shocked gasp that comes out of Sam’s mouth isn’t because of the action itself, they’ve fucked around a handful of times, but it’s never been out in the open and they’ve never been this sober.  He realizes he doesn’t give a shit and gives himself to the kiss.  Even through his shirt, Sam can feel the heat radiating off his brother as they crush their bodies as close as possible.

Dean doesn’t let up.  He continues kissing Sam breathless, leaving the younger man’s lips swollen and red, but Sam keeps up.  They are both letting out puffs of air and moans of needy, desperate, impatient desire.  With a rough jerk of his hands, Dean pulls at the closures of Sam’s button up and yanks it open, buttons ripping and rebounding off the cars around them.  The instant connection of their bare chest switches them into overdrive and Dean presses so forcefully into Sam that it borders on being painful.

Sam groans, pressing back and making sure his arousal brushes Dean.  If people are watching them, he doesn’t care.  Whatever Dean is doing it making the weird onslaught of emotions that were overtaking him in the car more bearable.  It is almost like he can think straight, only he can’t because Dean’s palm covers his jean-clad dick and squeezes.  Bringing one hand up to the back of Dean’s neck, Sam keeps them pressed tightly together as he pulls Dean’s head back and tongue fucks his mouth, jabbing his tongue into the moans his older brother is letting out.  All he can think about is coaxing more of those sounds out of Dean, it should startle him how he can’t concentrate on any other thought, but he’s too far gone already.  He needs to get Dean naked, needs to fuck the shit out of him, or get fucked, or he is going to die.  He doesn’t question why he feels, _knows_ , this is the absolute truth.  “Motel room.  Now.”

Nodding, Dean pulls away enough so they can both walk, but he almost stumbles when Sam overtakes him, slamming him against their motel room door and wrenching his belt lose so he can roughly unbutton the man’s pants.  At almost the same time that he dips his hand into Dean’s boxers to curl around the arousal there, Dean spins so he is belly up against the door.  It is an awkward position, but Sam is able to set his hand to stroking Dean while the older man gets to work on unlocking the door.  Dean stumbles with the key several times, mind too hazy on focusing enough to ensure the key slides into the lock, before he gets the door open and they both tumble inside.

They end up on the floor, Dean’s legs tangled in his jeans which have now slipped to his knees.  Sam kicks back with one foot and slams the door shut before submitting to Dean’s hands as his older brother makes quick work of getting Sam naked from the waist down.  Their hands are raking over one another, movements rough and jerky, fighting for purchase on anything they come in contact with.

Dean flips them so that he is hovering above Sam with lust fogged eyes.  “I gotta fuck you Sammy.  I have to.”  Dean licks his lips and hoists Sam’s legs so they are spread around his waist.  He looks down and takes in their dripping lengths sliding up against one another, prompting another licking of his lips.  Leaning down, he kisses Sam’s parted pout, moaning his need into the man’s mouth.  “Let me fuck you, Sammy?”

Sam gets the feeling that even if he refuses Dean, it will happen anyway, not that he has any intention of refusing.  He doesn’t need to respond verbally for Dean to get the hint; all he needs to do is arch back and moan, pressing so that he spreads his legs wider.

Dean’s hand snakes downward to tip-toe across Sam’s belly and down to his entrance.  Though his brain realizes it should be shocked when he meets moisture, Sam’s opening already slick and wet, Dean just moans with more lust.

Sam doesn’t question it either, instead, he practically purrs when Dean sinks a finger inside him.  The digit moves easily, aided by whatever lube Sam’s body ended up creating on its own.  It should be weird, but Sam hears himself begging for more rather than freaking out.  Soon enough, Dean has three fingers twisting, pumping, and scissoring inside him and Sam feels like he is going to die if he doesn’t get more.  “Need you Dean…Need you to fuck me.”  He groans as heat flares up in his belly prompting him to roll his hips and buck up into Dean’s hand.  “God, fuck me!”

Growling, Dean pulls back enough to line his rock hard arousal up with Sam’s practically dripping entrance and thrusts in.  Everything is rushed, the need to feel that type of connection overpowering any possible thought of drawing their ministrations out any longer.  “Fuck Sammy!”  Dean lets out a string of curses as Sam’s white heat envelopes him, the man’s muscles pulsing and begging for him to slip inside.

“Shit, that’s good, Dean.” Sam props himself up on his elbows so he can watch Dean thrust into him, curiously aroused by the sight of his brother’s soaked cock pumping in and out with fervor.  He’s almost salivating and needs more.  “Come on Dean, give it to me.”  A breathy moan escapes his mouth as Sam fixates on the visual of the movements making him feel like he is going to explode.  It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen and he can’t understand why he never noticed it before.

Dean realizes Sam is watching the spot where they are fused together and it tips over whatever has been building in him for the last hour.  He thrusts faster, the connection with Sam making life more bearable.  It is almost impossible to focus on anything other than fucking his little brother.

It’s over fast, but neither man is surprised.  Their every nerve seems to be on edge and it isn’t hard to push them into orgasm.

“Want it, Sam?  Want me to come inside you?”  Dean bites into the exposed flesh of Sam’s neck.

And Sam realizes he does, he really, really, _really_ does.  He _needs_ it.  It makes no sense but he knows he needs it.  “Want it so bad.  Come on, Dean,” his words go breathy.  “Come inside me!”  He looks up at Dean’s face and watches the man freeze up as his orgasm overtakes him.  When he finally feel’s Dean release, he knows he is going to need more, it isn’t going to be enough to satisfy him, but it is enough for now.  He pushes his ass up into Dean’s groin, keeping the older man seated deep inside him as he milks him of every ounce of come he has to offer.  “That’s it Dean, give it to me.  Give it all to me.”

“Fuck Sam.”  Dean slumps forward, forehead resting on Sam’s as he kisses the man lazily.  There is still a heat in his belly but it is at bay for now, calmed enough to let Dean’s natural concern for his brother peek through.  “You okay?”

“Almost,” Sam, still hard and movements sloppy with need, pushes Dean off him so that his brother rolls on his back, “but I will be soon.”  He hikes Dean’s legs up and open and licks at the man’s dick.  He’s still burning with need, Dean’s actions only stifling whatever is going on in his body momentarily.  With a bob of his head, he takes Dean’s slick length into his mouth and suckles it, tasting the strange mixture of the lube his body created and the natural taste of Dean’s manhood.  He lets out greedy whimpers as he sucks Dean clean, getting the man to a semi-hard state before pulling completely off and licking at it like a lollipop.  Lavishing his older brother’s cock with several more licks, he moves downward, parting the man’s ass cheeks as he goes.  Licking a stripe across Dean’s tight furl of muscle, he realizes Dean is already soaked, hole twitching for attention.  Alarm bells go off but Sam’s want silences them as his tongue teases the muscle open with ease.  “Shit Dean, look how ready you are for me?”

Dean grabs Sam by the back of his head and forces him to lick deeper, plunge his tongue in as far as he can.  He lets out weak moans, Sam becoming his undoing.  “Want your dick, Sammy.  Want it right now.”

Sam’s almost surprised at how easy this is.  It’s never been this easy with Dean, the man at least puts on some false pretense that he lets Sam fuck him all for the younger man’s benefit.  They both know that isn’t true, but no one says that out loud.  This time, Dean is widening his legs on his own, body and mouth begging to be fucked.  “Going to give it to you, Dean.  Going to fuck you _soooo_ good.”

“Do it.  Please?”  Dean’s voice goes shaky and he begs – _begs_ – for Sam to get on with it.

Roughly pulling Dean’s left leg over his shoulder, Sam shifts on his knees so he can pull Dean’s ass up on the incline of his thighs.  It is an awkward position but it will work.  With a twist of his hips, Sam gets the head of his cock butted up against Dean’s opening and he can only manage a few teasing nudges before he pushes hard and slides inside.

“Shit!”  Dean makes conflicting movements of trying to get away and trying to pull Sam deeper.  In the end he winds up slamming up against Sam, taking his younger brother deeper than he could ever get on his own.

Sam is just as transfixed by watching their sex, their mating – _why the hell is he thinking this way_ – as he was when Dean was fucking into him.  He watches Dean’s body coat his length in a slippery substance, making each thrust fluid and pleasurable.  “Oh…nnnngh!”  Sam’s eyes roll back at the tight pulsing of Dean’s channel.

Dean’s begging for it with a series of pants, moans, and whines.  With his good hand on Sam’s hip, he keeps his little brother  fitted between his legs.  They move together, sweat pooling at the bases of their spines as they give it their all.  “I’m gonna…I’m gonna,” he lets out a low moan, “oh god Sammy, I’m gonna come again.”

The fact that Dean is about to come untouched sends Sam over the edge.  He’s burning up – anxious twitching feeling in the back of his head and deep in his gut.  Sam’s heart is pounding in sync with Dean’s and they move on the same wavelength of need and want.  His thrusting goes wild and he pushes in deep and hard, coming a faction before Dean does.  He spills his seed inside his brother as Dean splashes his own against their bellies. 

They ride out their orgasms together, Sam all but collapsing as his dick twitches one last time.  Dean is breathing loud enough to be heard in the room next door but Sam’s surprised he can hear anything over the beating of his own heart.  He falls gracelessly onto his older brother and Dean lets out a hiss, Sam having landed on his dislocated shoulder. 

Somehow the lust in their bodies found a way to overcome any twinge of pain Dean may have been feeling, but now, in their post coital state, it seeps back in.

“Shit, Sam…can you…”  Dean gets up on his knees with disbelief that he even has the energy to do so.  With his head he makes an exaggerated gesture towards his shoulder.

Sam huffs and pushes himself to his feet.  He hauls Dean up with him, making sure the man has stable footing before shoving the shoulder into place in a rapid flash movement.  He’s used to doing this, they both are, but Dean lets out a shocked growl every time.

When Sam pulls away he is sure Dean is going to punch him, only he doesn’t.  Instead, Dean rolls his shoulders back and launches himself at Sam.  They are both naked and sweaty, evidence of what they’ve been up to coating their thighs, but Dean attacks Sam’s mouth with a hunger that isn’t even remotely satisfied.  After making out long enough to send Sam’s head spinning, Dean shoves Sam back, forcing his younger brother to take wobbly steps towards the bed.

Smirking, Sam walks backwards till the back of his knees meet the mattress.  Then he spins.  He spreads his legs in a wide inverted V and pitches forward on the bed, propping himself up on his forearms so that his ass is more than an invitation; it is a demand.  He looks over his shoulder to watch the effect he is having on Dean, dipping his back to tilt his ass higher at the same time.

Dean gets with the new program and strides over to his brother, slapping one of Sam’s offered ass cheeks before leaning down to lick a stripe across the man’s exposed entrance.  He inhales Sam’s musky sex while his tongue explores for a moment, tasting a mix of his own come and Sam’s slick.  Then, in a flash, he is fucking Sam again, giving it to him good and hard and shoving into Sam with so much force that his younger brother has to strengthen his stance to stay standing.

Sam’s begging again, the need to have Dean fuck him like this, come inside him, overpowering anything else.  They unfurl into a loud moaning mess, but it feels like they have fire in their veins and their connection is the only thing keeping them from spontaneously combusting.

Their orgasms don’t signify an end, because now Sam has Dean sprawled out on the bed and even though there is no biologically plausible reason why he still has the energy and stamina to fuck Dean again, somehow he does.  In an instant, he’s hard again but Sam’s too drowned in lust to think it odd.  Dean’s back to begging for it, wanting it so bad that he actually shoves Sam onto his back on the mattress so he can ride him. 

When Dean finally sinks down onto Sam’s cock, fireworks go off behind their eyes and they both know, almost instinctively, they are nowhere near finished.

***********

 

There is weak daylight sneaking in from behind the curtains by the time they are done, the blazing heat pulsing through their bodies finally suffocated and had gone out with their last session of marathon sex.  Coming down from that type of sexual high is awkward and they don’t look each other in the eye, but they stay fitted against one another, limbs tangled and body fluids splattering most of their skin.

Sam shifts his muscles, soreness having set in suddenly.  He feels like himself, like the rational person he usually is.  His stomach drops out when his _rational_ mind comes back to him and he can wrap his brain around what just happened.

He panics.

“Shit! Dean!”

Dean already has one foot in the realm of the unconscious and startles at Sam’s sudden outburst.  “Wha’ Sam?”  He turns to face his brother but keeps his face buried in the pillow as he drapes and arm around Sam’s waist.  His movements are lazy and tinged with exhaustion as he snuggles up closer to Sam, sleepiness softening every aspect about him.

“Dean! Wake up!”  Pushing into a sitting position, Sam slips out of Dean’s hold and blinks down at the man.  “Come on, Dean!”

Grumbling and peaking one eye open at Sam, Dean sighs loudly.  “A’right.  I’m awake.”  He pushes up to sit beside Sam, “What?”

Sam’s head is spinning.  He can’t believe his brother can’t answer that question on his own.  “Seriously, Dean?”  When Dean just continues to stare at him expectantly, Sam rolls his eyes.  “What we just did…the last few hours….you can’t think any of that was remotely normal.”  Pausing, he looks over the rooms disarray.  “Maybe the first couple of rounds, but, after that?  No…”

Scratching at the back of his head, Dean yawns.  “It was damn good, that’s what it was.”

Frustration seeps in and Sam grabs Dean by the shoulders.  “Dean!”  It’s habitual, the yelling of Dean’s name in frustration; Sam still does it, like he hopes one day it will work and snap Dean’s head back into the game.  “It wasn’t normal.  You…You were soaked.  I was too.  In case you forgot our anatomy, we are men Dean, we don’t self lubricate.  But whatever that was before, you were _wet_.”

As if offended by what Sam is insinuating, Dean reels back and raises an eyebrow at his brother.  “ _Hey!_ You were too.”

“Exactly!”  Sam shifts onto his knees and rests back on his heels.  “And it wasn’t normal.”

The gears in Dean’s head shift and he folds his arms over his chest.  “So, you’re thinking what?  That wacko fertility goddess worked some of her mojo and made us chicks?”

With his eyes, Sam gestures towards Dean’s crotch and then his own.  “We’re definitely not ‘chicks’, Dean.”

Shrugging, “Yeah, so then, what?  I mean, the fucking thing was dying.  She probably tried to put some curse on us but didn’t really finish it.  I say self lubrication isn’t the worst thing to walk away with.”  Dean grins.  “It’ll save time.”

Huffing, Sam smacks out at Dean’s chest.  “Dean!”

“Sam!”  Rolling his eyes, Dean shakes his head and flops back down in bed.  “Can we think about this in the morning…” he looks towards the backlit curtains, “in the afternoon?”

“No, I think we…”  Sam swallows his words and gasps, the wind being knocked out of him as nausea hits him hard.  He closes his eyes and tries to let it pass, but it persists.  The room spins and Sam cups his mouth with both hands before ungracefully scrambling towards the bathroom.

His knees hit the floor just in time for his stomach to expel its meager contents.  Gagging again, Sam pitches forward and retches, coughing and bracing himself against the cold tile floor.

“Sammy?”  Dean appears at the bathroom door, prior annoyance replaced with concern.

Whatever embarrassment Sam felt at having Dean watch him throw up is forgotten when the nausea rears its head again, consuming him and making him feel like he is dying.  He hasn’t gotten sick like this since he was young enough to cry about it.  There is nothing left in his stomach except bile but he throws it up anyway, spitting the unpleasant taste from his mouth.

“Shh, Sam, it’s okay.”

Sam isn’t aware that he is making soft whining sounds until he hears Dean try to sooth him.  The nausea fades only to return full force in a matter of minutes, making him dry heave and gag, but nothing comes out.  He feels a cold sweat break out across his forehead and his heart races with adrenaline, but the nausea leaves him paralyzed.

Dean lowers himself to the floor beside Sam and brushes his hair out of his face.  “Sam?”  His touch is soft and concerned and he turns Sam’s head to face him.  “What’s going on?”

Shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut, Sam tries to find stability.  “I don’t know.”  Choking on a stifled sob, Sam grips the edge of the toilet bowl before dry heaving again.  “Oh god, Dean.  I feel like I am…I don’t know…like I’m dying.”  He lurches forward again, this time wrapping his arms around his middle as his stomach tries to expel nothing.  “It hurts.”

“Where does it hurt?”  Dean tries to pull Sam’s hands away but his brother keeps them wrapped tightly around his stomach.  “Where, Sammy?”

Taking a long calming breath, Sam falls back onto his heels.  He loosens his grip around his middle and places both palms on his abdomen under his belly button.  “Here.  It hurts here.”  He winces and moans.

Dean puts his own palm beside Sam’s, feeling an unexpected swollenness to his brother’s stomach.  A ‘this is bad’ light bulb goes off, and Dean’s heart speeds up.  Maybe it is concern for his brother, or wishing he can take whatever is plaguing him away, but there is a tightness in Dean’s abdomen.  He winces, but convinces himself it is a phantom pang.  When his own pain intensifies, he can’t ignore it.  It tears through him and leaves him breathless, forcing him to pitch forward and catch himself on his palms.

“Dean?!”  Sam is having a hard time thinking straight.  The pain, panic and worry for his brother aren’t helping him see things clearly.  He knows they are in trouble, but he can’t think of the next move because all he can think about is the nausea destroying his resolve and the pain deep in his abdomen muscles that feel like they are being stretched apart.

Righting himself, Dean tries to brush aside Sam’s concern.  He covers up his discomfort with a false expression of normalcy and fights to keep his composure.  “I’m okay.”  Even as the words leave his mouth, he knows he isn’t.  The pain in his middle is intensifying, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to stifle the moan threatening to escape his mouth.  “I think you were right Sammy, I think maybe that fertility goddess fucked us up.”  He tries to make it come off like a joke, like an attempt to lighten the mood, but ends it with a pained gasp and fails.

“You’re not okay.”  Sam keeps one hand on his slightly swollen stomach and looks up at his brother.  “I think we’re in trouble, Dean.”  He lets out a shocked gasp of air when something shifts under his hand, his muscles tightening and warping in rapid succession.  It hurts enough to make his eyes water and his lip curl up.  They are both no stranger to pain but this incarnation of it is different than anything Sam can remember feeling.

Dean forces himself to get to his feet, the movement made difficult by the same stretch and shift of muscles that Sam is experiencing.  He presses both hands to his own stomach, fingers splayed to cover as much surface area as possible.  Before he sees the changes occurring to his body, he feels them.  His normal, flat, toned middle is swollen and pressing against his fingers.  There is a roundness that never existed before, one that makes no sense given the fact that it wasn’t there the last time he checked.  Stumbling after a shock of pain runs through him, Dean closes his eyes to find enough self-control to make it to the other room.

He locates his pants strewn near the door and tugs out his cell phone.  He and Sam are most definitely in trouble and they know when they need help.  Only, Dean’s thinking they needed help hours ago.  He dials a number on autopilot and thinks back to what Sam said earlier as he waits for someone to answer.  The call connects and Dean can hear someone give a sigh on the other end.

“Whaddya want?”  Bobby sounds annoyed, but there isn’t any other way for him to sound whenever Sam and Dean are searching him out.

“Bobby?”  Dean tries to keep his voice deep, tries to keep it level and as close as he can to normal.  His tone picks up at the end of the utterance, hitchhiking on the cusp of another pained gasp.  He can tell Bobby’s picked up that something is more wrong than he anticipated when he hears a curse on the other end of the phone.

“Balls!  Whaddya and yer brother get yerselves into now?”  Bobby gives an exasperated sigh.

“I-I think we need your help, Bobby.”  Dean cringes, motion intensified by the fact that he hears Sam throwing up again.

“Obviously you need help, you wouldn’t be calling me sounding two paces from death’s doorstep if you didn’t.  Cut the pretenses, what did you two do now?”

“I think we pissed off a fertility goodness.”

Bobby’s voice peaks with curiosity.  “Now why do you think that?”

Biting his lip, Dean hesitates.   “Because-because we….we killed it.”

“You WHAT?!”

“We – Sam and I – killed it.”  Dean loses his balance, dizziness coming out of nowhere and hitting him hard.  He falls to his knees with an “ooouf” and curses.

“Dean?”

“Still here, Bobby.”  Gritting his teeth, Dean tries to make his way back to Sam, the need to check on his brother overpowering his own discomfort.

“Why did you go and kill it?  They’re usually harmless but they radiate some seriously messed up voodoo shit when you kill them.”  Bobby’s voice sounds farther away, like he’s put the phone on speaker and set it down.

Dean can tell Bobby is at his desk when he hears pages fanning and turning in drawn out slides.  Biting his lip to cut off a yelp, Dean can taste blood.  “I don’t know.  It went rouge or something.  It was impregnating humans with _very_ not human things.”

“Well, that’s…. _nasty_.”  Bobby pauses and grumbles.  “So you killed it…on Halloween of all fricken days.  You do know that makes whatever she did to you ten times stronger, right?  Christ, Dean!  Do you two ever take the easy route?”

“Not usually.”  Dean hisses and looked down at his stomach.  He swears his mind must be playing tricks on him because his belly appears to have bulged out even more, rounding out evenly.  Swallowing to prevent a pained cry, Dean almost goes cross-eyed when his abdomen walls push outward, the shift visible.  Studying it, Dean thinks maybe he can see something making itself known from the inside out.  “Shit Bobby, I….holy fuck!”  He almost drops the phone but catches it with his shoulder in time to hear Bobby yelling at him to pay attention.  “Something is seriously wrong here….The fucking thing cursed Sam and I before she died…she…”

“Listen, Dean…You didn’t have sex with some random girl after your killed the fertility goddess, did you?”  Bobby’s voice tapers down to the judgment of the question. 

“What? No!”  Dean finally finds his way back to Sam and realizes his brother looks worn out, muscles jerky from throwing up.  Sam still looks green around the gills but he’s slumped against the wall, lip curled in discomfort.  He catches an unnatural movement under Sam’s stomach muscles and sucks in a breath.

Sam catches Dean’s eyes but then both brothers’ gaze travels down to matching distended bellies.  Sam almost has a panic attack but puts it on hold as he gags over the toilet again.

Bobby’s voice crackles in Dean’s ear.  “What the hell is that?”

Dean brushes up against Sam.  “Sam.  Sam’s sick.  So am I…I think….”

More pages turn on Bobby’s side of the conversation before the man slams a hand down.  “Okay, it says here that she probably cursed you with hyper fertility.  But if you steer clear of any woman for several days, it should pass on its own.”

Dean’s stomach drops out.  “What about men?  Does it say anything about steering clear of men?”  He is pretty sure he knows where this conversation is going but he holds onto hope that it isn’t.

If Bobby is surprised by the question, he doesn’t show it.  “As long as they weren’t cursed to, it shouldn’t matter.  The curse is meant to make you breed with _something_ , two men usually don’t have success at breeding together.”

Cursing under his breath, Dean only needs to look down at his growing midsection to put the rest of the pieces together.  “Let’s say the other man was also cursed….what then?”

Bobby makes a noise and Dean can’t tell if it is disgust, frustration, anger or a combination of all three.

“Idjits! Both of you.  What did you do Dean?”

He doesn’t even hesitate in answering, Dean is too panicked to.  “I did Sam, that’s what I did.” The part where he would normally be embarrassed about sharing his sex life with Bobby, much less his and Sam’s sex life, doesn’t come.  Instead, Dean is fretting over what the older hunter is going to tell him next.

“How many times?”  Bobby is skimming his books again, the pages fanning at a faster rate.

“Seven.”

“Seven times, total?”

“Seven time…..each.”  Dean gasps as a feeling that his middle is being torn apart, muscles reworking into a different formation, slams into him.  He tries to keep in his cry but he screams it loud and clear into the phone’s receiver.

“Balls!”  Bobby grumbles again and then takes the phone off speaker, pressing it closer to his mouth.  “What is going on?”

“I don’t fucking know, Bobby!  Sam’s throwing up a lot, and there’s something – if feels like there’s something in me.”

“’Cuz there is.”  Bobby pauses.  “Sam too.  That curse…that wasn’t some grade school hocus pocus shit.  This is the major league.  That goddess made you supernaturally fertile, which wouldn’t be such a shit show if you didn’t – _you know_ – with each other.  But now that you did…well, you’re both,” he hesitates, discomfort catching him on the world, “aww hell, you’re both pregnant.”

“Come again?”  Instinctively, Dean brings his free hand to the pain radiating from his curved stomach.

“Essentially, the spell changed your anatomy for the time being.  You’re both pregnant…and that’s not all…”

“Oh please…don’t tell me the rest…”  Dean screws his eyes shut and let his head thump back against the wall. 

Sam yells out, his exclamation the loudest so far.

“You’re going to find out on your own even if I don’t tell you.”  Bobby’s breath comes in irregular patterns, signifying that he is on the move.  “Aside from your genders, this still isn’t any run of the mill pregnancy.  The one account I read about said it lasted about five hours.”

“What…what is _it_?”  Though Bobby can’t see him, Dean splays his hand across the ‘ _it_ ’ in question and has his breath knocked out of his lungs when his stomached lurches forward and expands before his eyes.

“ _It_ is a baby.  It is whatever was breed together.  So it’s human, part you and part Sam and just as fucked up as that sounds.”

Dean’s voice picks up a panicked pace.  “Can you…can we…stop this?”

“Where are you two?”

 “Devil’s Lake, North Dakota”

“Maybe if I was there I could cut you open, yank it out, but I am 7 hours away at best; it will be over by then.”  Bobby curses and a car door slamming is heard.

“How? How will it be over?”  Dean catches Sam looking at him in confusion, waiting to be clued in on what Bobby just revealed.  “HOW, Bobby?”

“The curse, it…it…it changes you to suit its needs.  You can give birth to it naturally, or as naturally as you created this mess.”

Dean drops the phone, head spinning.  There is no way he heard Bobby right.  There is NO way he is pregnant.  They’ve dealt with some fucked up shit but this is not possible.

Sam grabs the phone, pressing it to his ear and rambling, “Bobby?  Bobby, it’s Sam.  What the hell is going on?”

Bobby relays the information to Sam, the younger brother holding it together enough to stay silent during the whole explanation.  He even believes Bobby, which is why he dissolves into complete panic the minute the man stops talking.  He hyperventilates and lets a litany of curses explode from his mouth.  He’s glaring at Dean, even though he knows this is both of their faults.  They are smarter than to get cursed by a goddess and think they can just brush it off.

“Sam? Sam! SAM!”

Bobby’s voice breaks through and Sam gives the phone his attention once more.  “Oh my god…this is real.  This is really happening.”  He chokes on a breath for a moment and goes lightheaded.  “Oh my god!”

“Sam, I’m heading your way.  It’s going to be over before I get there, but you…you two have been through a lot of tough shit.  Hang in there.  You have each other it’s…”  Bobby’s voice fades in an out before the call cuts off.

Throwing the phone across the room, Sam looks at Dean with wild eyes.  “Oh my god, Dean…this isn’t happening.”  He gets on his knees but is thrown off by his new center of balance, rocking back before righting himself again.  His belly is distended and pushing outward, looking more and more like what Bobby predicted was happening to them.  He catches sight of his profile in the dingy mirror and it makes him want to throw up again.  He looks _fucking_ pregnant.  “This is not fucking happening.”

Dean swallows hard, hand running through his hair before he reaches out to touch Sam’s belly.  It is solid and it jerks slightly under his touch, Sam yelping at the sudden jump in growth.  “Fuck, I think it really is Sammy.”

“Nuh uhh.  No way.”  Sam shakes his head, eyes wide with panic.  The bathroom walls crowd in on him and the need to break out into the bedroom overcomes him.  Nausea seeming at bay for now, Sam gives Dean a stunned glance before shaking his head back and forth.  “Not happening.”  He scuttles out of the room, unstable movements making him bump into the doorway in the process.  He makes his way to the bed and collapses onto it when pain rips through him again.

Dean follows him, barely making it to the bed before scrunching up his face in pain.  “Sam, it’s happening.”

Sam stares at his brother.  He has no idea how Dean has always been able to accept their life and all the things in it so quickly.  He may panic at first but once the facts set in, Dean is unswervingly committed to seeing things through.  But Sam, Sam can’t accept that their life has suddenly become a B-list horror movie.  Letting out a strangled moan, he digs his fingers into his round stomach.  Even though Bobby explained what is happening and why, he can’t believe that there is a baby in… _there_.  He starts believing the minute he feels something twist and move, the thing inside him pushing outward.  His hand flies to his middle and he gasps when he feels it again.  Though he is no expert, the size and roundness of his stomach looks like he is seven months pregnant.  Drawing in a breath through clenched teeth, he looks at Dean for help he knows his brother can’t give.  Dean looks even worse off than he does, stomach seeming to grow larger than Sam’s out of the blue.  Sam feels a hard kick, making him snort out a puff of air through his nose.  Something shifts along his ribs and he goes ice cold.  “Oh my god…Dean?”

“Yeah…I know.”  Dean grimaces, feeling the same types of movements as Sam.  “It’s okay.  We can do this.”  He grabs out for Sam’s hand and squeezes it tighter than necessary.  “We _can_ do this, Sam.  Lots of people do this every day.”

“Yeah, lots of _female_ people!”  Sam throws his head back and curses.  He can barely see straight due to the pain his rapidly growing belly is causing.

Dean knows his brother is panicking, but he’s right.  Still, he needs to make Sam believe they can actually do _this_.  They have no other choice.  He watches Sam sprawl out over the bed, back arched and legs spread out, making his belly his more prominent point.  Sam’s middle looks smaller than his own, but Dean’s chalking that up to the fact that Sam is physically larger than he is.  “We’re going to do this.  Me and you.  Just like we always do.”

Swallowing hard, Sam finally nods his head in agreement.  Pressing his lips together, he keeps nodding his head up and down through a pain in his hips.  “You and me…”

“That’s right Sammy.”  This time, Dean can’t hold it together anymore.  He groans and crawls on the bed beside Sam, laying down on his right side and trying to close himself off to the pain.

Sam ends up lying down too, facing Dean and puffing out breaths in discomfort.  The pain keeps increasing and when he reaches out to touch Dean’s middle he sucks in a shocked gasp when he feels rapid strong movements against his palm.  “And then what?  What do we do with… _them_?”

“It doesn’t matter Sam.  We take care of each other….the rest…that will work itself out.”  Dean lets out a wounded puff of air as he cringes.  Grabbing onto Sam, his resolve wavers momentarily and he touches his forehead to Sam’s shoulder.  He has to keep believing he _can_ do this.  But he needs Sam to get him through it.

Sam rubs his middle subconsciously when there is another hard kick and an uncomfortable shift.  “They…this sounds fucked up, but they are Winchesters.  The last ones that I know about.”  There are other thoughts in Sam’s brain, but he can’t get them out.  Dean looks at him in understanding, but they both fall silent and concentrate on managing their pain.

After two hours, things seem to level out.  They are both covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but they’ve either grown immune to the pain or it’s become more manageable.

Sam startles Dean out of his concentrated trance when he curses and awkwardly pushes himself off the bed.

Voice weak, Dean sits up and his eyes follow Sam’s movements.  “Sammy?”

“I have to use the bathroom.”

Dean blinks.  Looking at Sam now is like looking at a new entity.  He still looks like Sam, but his belly is out of place and huge, jutting out and hanging lower than before.  Things have changed so quickly, too quickly for his brain to get on board with, and he has no idea if letting Sam get up is a good idea.  “Sam…”

“Relax.  It’s just the bathroom.  Besides, I think things are going to be okay for a while.”  He doesn’t wait for Dean’s response when he feels a kick to his bladder.  Grimacing, he moves as quickly s he can towards the bathroom.

Dean watches him disappear.  Closing his eyes, he lies down again and rolls to face the bathroom, knowing he will be able to hear if Sam needs help despite the visual on his location but he takes the extra precaution anyway.  Almost as soon as his eyelids fall, he shoots them open again.

“Dean!”  Panic filled and pained, Sam’s voice pierces through Dean.

By the time Dean manages to get to his feet and into the bathroom, Sam has hit the floor with the thud.  Dean finds him with his legs splayed and arms reaching back to brace himself.  He’s huffing and puffing, chest working overtime. 

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”  Sam groans and instinctively spreads his legs wider.  “I think…I think my water just broke.”  Sam curses and moans.  The pain in his middles has shifted down to his hips and he screams as his stomach muscles contract.

“Bobby said 5 hours.  It’s been three…”  Dean gets down on Sam’s level, knees connecting with wet tiles and proving Sam’s hunch was right.

“I don’t give a fuck what Bobby said.  Things are happening _now_!”  Sam growls and rolls his hips.  His pregnancy progressed in 3 hours and he has no idea how long birth will end up being.  He’s praying for short, but he’s also praying for uncomplicated.  He gets a feeling he might get his first wish when his brain narrows in on only one thought – pushing.  “Oh fuck Dean!  I gotta push!”

The words coming out of Sam’s mouth unnerve Dean.  His brother should never have had to utter those words, yet he’s practically repeating them like a mantra.  He has no idea what he is doing, but Dean is hoping movies have some medical truth to them.  “Then push Sam.  I’m right here.”  Dean settles between Sam’s legs, spreading them more and noticing that his opening is wet and stretched.  There is something bulging out just behind the opening, warping the area.  He swallows and tries not to give into the feeling that this whole scene is wrong and he needs to get away from it.

Dean’s instruction makes Sam snap his head up.  This is the part where Dean is supposed to make some smart ass remark.  It is the part where he is supposed to tell Sam that he is crazy and that men don’t push babies out.  This is the part where he finds out this is all a dream.  But it isn’t, because he really _does_ have to push, despite the urge seeming biologically impossible.  “I can’t do this Dean.  I’m not supposed to do this….I don’t know how.”  Sam feels a shift in his hips, things moving rapidly enough for his labor to break records.  “I can’t…”

“Yes you can, Sam.  Yes you can.”  Dean nods his head in encouragement and grips both of Sam’s thighs.  He realizes Sam’s body is working on its own, contracting and trying to expel the _thing_ inside him.  “Just try to help it out, okay?”

Holding onto a breath, Sam plants his feet firmly on the tiles and bears down.  He grunts through the push, losing himself to the action for as long as he can.  “Holy shit!”  He pushes again; there is pain but it feels better now that he can do something with it. 

Dean shifts, an ache in his middle making it hard to focus on helping Sam.  He watches Sam work and sees whatever is lying behind Sam’s entrance work its way out.  It takes Sam several more pushes before Dean realizes it is the curved top of a skull.  “Whatever you are doing Sam, don’t stop.”

The contractions roll into one continuous string of constricting muscles.  Sam yelps as he feels his entrance burning and stretching to accommodate for the child’s head.  Teeth clenched, he grunts through push after push.  A rush of urgency runs through him and he gropes out for Dean.  “It’s coming Dean. Right now! Oh, fuck!”  Curling forward over his belly, Sam pushes hard, yelping at the sudden rush of movement between his legs.  “Shit!”

“Head’s out Sam.”  Dean gasps at what he is looking at between Sam’s legs.  The very human head has two closed eyes and a tiny pair of lips and a nose.  He heard Bobby tell him that whatever they created was human, but seeing it really is believing.  “Oh shit, _it_ has a head!   _It_ really is a baby….”

Sam hangs his head back between his shoulder blades for a moment to regain some focus.  Everything hurts and makes him want to crawl out of his skin but the pain keeps pulling him back in.  “I can’t,” he starts taking jagged rapid breaths, “I can’t do this Dean.  I can’t!”  He feels like a failure, like the little kids that always messed up and pissed Dean off.  Sam really wishes he could stay strong enough to get through this but he can’t even see straight from all the panic coursing through him.

“You are doing it, Sammy.  You’re almost done.”  Dean supports the tiny head and looks up at Sam’s desperate tear streaked face.  His brother looks like he is going into shock, unable to recover from the fast-forward of their last few hours.  He feels whatever is in his own belly lurch lower and cries out in time with Sam.

Getting a better grasp on the tiles, making sure to support himself, Sam bears down again.  He needs this to be over.  The baby feels stuck and he is starting to think he has pushed it as far as he can.  Pushing again, the baby doesn’t budge and he yowl.  “Just pull it out!”

“I don’t think it works that way.”  Dean tentatively reaches out and supports the straining skin waiting to stretch around the baby’s shoulders.  He’s about to say something but pulls back when he feels pressure build up in his own abdomen.   Forgetting Sam for the moment, Dean presses both of his hands to the underside of his belly and curses.  The pressure is building again, spreading downward and he can feel wetness at his opening.  “Shit!”  Muscles contracting, Dean pants rhythmically in an attempt to push past it.  Sam is staring at him, still struggling to push.  “Sam, you gotta get this kid out in the next minute or I think you are going to be on your own.”

“What? Are you…?”  Sam whimpers and closes his eyes for a moment. 

“Yeah.”  Dean continues rubbing the lower part of his belly.  “Nnngh!”  The pain is different than the last two hours, but it is coming quick and staying put.  “Come on Sammy, you can do this.  Push as hard as you can.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Sam pushes softly before coming right back at it and bearing down, focusing completely on getting the baby out.  He gasps when he feels one shoulder pop free, followed by the next and a flood of fluid.  Collapsing back against the wall, his legs are shaking with the effort he just exuded.

Dean catches the baby, able to get a hold on the slippery newborn before the floor does.  He doesn’t know what to do with it, so he turns it on its side and flops her onto Sam’s belly.  It is very obviously a girl, and when it lets out a watery wail he knows it is very obviously alive as well.  “It’s a little girl.”

“A girl?”  Sam comes back to the world of the living and cranes his neck to get a look at whatever is squirming on his stomach.  “Oh my god, it _is_ a baby.”  His lungs have trouble regulating themselves, but Sam finds a way to keep from passing out.  Reaching down, he pulls the crying newborn to his chest and stares at her in disbelief.  “You did all that kicking in there?”  The baby seems soft and sweet, nothing like what he imagined caused the pain he just suffered.  Dean’s yell breaks him out of his trance.  “Dean?”

Curling his lip, Dean narrows his eyes at Sam.  “How the hell did you just do this?  This fucking sucks.”  Dean’s eyes flutter back for a moment before he _needs_ to find a way to bring his baby’s head down lower.  The thought consumes him and he gets enough momentum to rock himself onto his hands and knees, belly dipping towards the tiled bathroom floor.

Immobilized by a contraction, Sam can’t really see what is going on.  He tries to think about what is supposed to happen next, but the answer comes on its own when he pushes and delivers the afterbirth in a speed to match the rest of their ordeal.  He has no idea what to do with his daughter – that word still hasn’t sunk in – but he needs to get to the other side of the bathroom in order to see what’s going on with Dean.  The baby is still crying, gummy mouth letting out wail after wail.  Her lips quiver from the effort and Sam is completely torn.  “Shhh.”  Reaching up blindly, he grabs a bleach stiff towel.  It’s a poor choice for a baby blanket, but it’s all they have and it is better than nothing.  He wraps it around her several times before laying her safely against the wall.

The bathroom floor looks like a crime scene.  There is amniotic fluid, blood, and placenta everywhere.   Sam is exhausted but he is recovering almost as fast as his pregnancy progressed and he has less trouble making his way to Dean than he thought he would.  Resting a hand on Dean’s back so as not to startle him, Sam positions himself behind his older brother.  “Hey Dean, how you doing?”

“Fuck you!”  Dean growls, trying to look back at Sam but failing when a contraction takes him off guard.  He feels like parts of his body are on fire, working in ways his blueprints never planned on.

Sam scoots back to see what is going on.  Dean was already pushing, the crown of a baby’s head making slow ‘two steps forward, one step back’ progress.

“Good job Dean, keep pushing just like that.”  Sam rubs circles along the base of Dean’s spine and holds onto a breath when Dean lets out a cry.

“I’m going to resurrect that fertility bitch and kill her again, this time without any last words.  Mother fucker!”  Dean growls and spreads his knees, hips tilting and entrance becoming almost parallel with the ground when he pushes.  He bears down again, feels something shift, and keeps pushing  until he births the head.  “Out!”

“I got you Dean.  You’re doing good.”  Sam reaches out, grabs a towel from the rack and places it on the floor under Dean’s entrance.  “Come on Dean, push again.”

“Uggghh!”  Curving his body like a C, Dean drowns out everything but bearing down.  It takes him several efforts, but the baby inches forward slowly.  He lets out a panicked noise when the first shoulder pops free and his groan gets shaky when he gets the other one out.  The rest of the baby slides out with a wet mess.

Sam’s not surprised at Dean’s efficiency.  “You did it, Dean!”  He catches the baby, a boy, and rubs him briskly with the towel to get him breathing.  The newborn takes in a breath and cries just like his sister did.  Both babies look so much alike that Sam isn’t sure he could tell them apart from the waist up.  Dean’s baby is louder though, his wails drowning out the little girl’s and demanding someone pay attention to him.

Finally giving into the exhaustion, Dean falls onto his side, landing in an awkward position because of the umbilical cord.  His eyes are hooded and bordering on shutting but he reaches out to Sam.  “That sucked.”

Sam isn’t listening completely, he’s busy wrapping the baby boy up, using a finger to play with his lips and distract him from crying.  “Hi little guy.”  It’s weird, because 3 hours ago he didn’t want any of this to happen, but the newborns are doing crazy things to his logic.

“Little guy?”

Sam nods.  “Yeah.  He’s a boy.” 

“Oh,” Dean lets out on an exhale.

“Here, hold him a minute.”  Sam lays the bundled up baby on the floor and presses him up against Dean’s body.   When he gets up to retrieve a clean knife from the main bedroom, he is shocked that he almost feels like himself again, physical repercussions of what just happened diminishing by the minute.

Dean pulls the baby closer without thinking about it.  Whatever is going on is not something he expected.  He doesn’t want a kid – well he does, but he doesn’t want one now, or in their lifestyle, or in a world going to supernatural hell – but looking at the baby he doesn’t remember why.  He blames it on some aftershock from the goddess’ spell, because it feels too strong to be of his own wanting.  His want to protect this baby, and the little girl whimpering across the room, is strong enough to rival his natural desire to protect Sam.  Maybe it is just part of his genetic makeup, but _no one_ messes with his family, no matter how fucked up said family is. 

Dean stares at the baby and doesn’t know how to get it to stop crying.  He’s too tired to think logically and his body aches but he finds himself making a cliché soothing sound.  Surprisingly, it works.  The baby reacts to the sound of his voice and stops his full blown crying.

 Sam returns, knife and shoelaces in hand, and sets to work tying off and cutting both babies’ umbilical cords.  He brings his daughter closer, rewrapping her blanket and laying her on the floor beside him.  Dean still hasn’t delivered the afterbirth but he’s started panting and groaning so Sam figures that will be coming soon.

“Sam, something’s not right.”  Dean squeezes his eyes shut and moves their son towards Sam.  “Hurts too damn much.”  He feels an overly familiar pressure building up, shifting lower at rapid speed.  Forcing himself into a sitting position, he spreads his legs in a pose similar to the one Sam used to give birth.

Turning his attention towards his brother, it only takes Sam one look to realize there is another baby coming.  The head is already visible and Dean yells through a push.  “Another head is right there Dean.”

“Two?”  Dean groans and bears down, voice harsh when he speaks again.  “How come you have one and I have to have two!”  A contraction takes hold of him and he forgets his gripe, pushing hard with his muscles and working the head out.  His body is working overtime, shaking from the stress of it all.  He holds his breath, pushes, curses, and then does it again.  After a few minutes, lack of oxygen makes his vision blur and his arms almost give out when his balance falters. 

“Hey, keep breathing Dean.”  Sam gives Dean a quick glance before going back to aiding the emerging head.

“ _Don’t_ tell me what to do, Sam.”  The anger in his voice isn’t meant for Sam but rather the process itself.  He’s tired and hurting and not thinking rationally.  The whole process has been so fast that time starts to feel surreal as he pushes once, twice, three times, and gets the baby’s head out.  Sam doesn’t even have time to let him know because he curses and keeps pushing, delivering the baby into Sam’s waiting hands.

“Another boy.”  Sam catches the baby who seems to have come out screaming.  His face is scrunched up and red, but he looks healthy as far as Sam can tell.  He’s no doctor, but all three babies _look_ normal, a little squished, but normal.

Dean pulls the baby into his arms and lays him against his naked chest.  It takes a few minutes, but when Dean finally delivers the placenta, Sam finds out that the twin boys shared it, making them identical.

Glad to be finished with the last remnants of the curse, Dean sighs.  Everything slows down, _finally,_ and he is able to get enough air into his lungs.  He loses it again when he feels an alien sensation radiating from his nipple.  Looking down he finds his second born mouthing at his nipple blindly before latching on and suckling.  “Oh, hell no!”  Conflicted, he doesn’t know if he wants to pull his son away and maintain one last shred of manliness or if he is awed by the fact that he is feeding his son.  The baby squirms and latches on more thoroughly, making it impossible for Dean to find the willpower to pull him away.  It is odd and uncomfortable, but the baby is making soft grunting noises, lips lined with milk, and Dean succumbs to his gut reaction to nurture his son.  He glares at Sam.  “Don’t you dare say one word.”

Sam raises his hands in innocence.  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Not one word, Sammy.”  Dean intensifies his glare but his other gestures counteract it.  His cradles his son closer and absently strokes his arm.

“Nope, wouldn’t dare bring up any chick flick moments like you doing,” Sam gestures towards Dean’s chest, “ _that_.”

Feeling like himself again, Dean points an accusatory finger towards their daughter.  “At least I had boys.  You, Samantha, had a girl.”

Sam pulls their daughter into his arms, “Is that the best you can come up with?”  He rolls his eyes and follows Dean’s earlier actions by bringing the newborn to his chest.  She doesn’t catch on as fast as her brother, but eventually she latches onto Sam’s nipple and pulls milk into her mouth with quick strong pulls.  It surprises Sam even though he figured that since Dean has the ability to feed their kids he would as well.  The sensation is odd but things like this are where he has a one up on Dean.  He doesn’t care if the gesture makes him look like a ‘girl’.  He knows showing affection isn’t the same as showing weakness.  “There, we’re even now.  Happy?”

And Dean is happy.  It makes no sense, but he is kind of happy: happy to be done with the curse, happy to have survived, happy to have human babies instead of scars and monsters.  He watches his daughter eat and realizes that Sam must feel similarly. 

They both just did something miraculous. 

Or nightmarish.

Or both.

Eventually, they get out of the bathroom that needs to be condemned, and slip into lounge pants.  They stay shirtless for the time being, preferring the easy access should their kids need food.  And with all five of them on the bed, there is little else to do than get to know and name their kids while waiting for Bobby.  They feel like their selves, like nothing happened.  Their bellies are back to being flat, though less toned, and the pain is almost none existent.

When Bobby finally does make it to the motel, he is shocked at the scene he walks into.  Dean is semi-sprawled out on Sam’s shoulder with his first born, Daniel, nursing at his chest.  Sam has their daughter, Harlow, snuggled up on his lap while he coos at their youngest son, Lucas, in his arms.

Taking in the scene, Bobby shakes his head.  He has no idea what he is going to do with the Winchesters, all five of them, but he’s learned one lesson.  “Remind me to never leave you two alone on Halloween,”   Lucas cries, reaffirming that the babies are real and from the way Sam and Dean are holding them, they are not going anywhere, “ever.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Silly little sequel is here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/800694


End file.
